


If You're Broken, I Will Mend You

by violentlymastrubatin



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Broken, I, IF, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Rich - Freeform, Will - Freeform, dont get too excited, homeless, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, mend, mentions of drugs and using drugs BEWARE, smut because there might be some later on, stylinson, why are my titles always so long, you - Freeform, youre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:25:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentlymastrubatin/pseuds/violentlymastrubatin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles had, in his opinion, a pretty nice life.  <br/>He grew up around a lot of money and a lot of support from his family. And because of all of this, he got to fulfill his dream of attending university. Now that he was 20, he was sure he had his life figured out. That is, until he met Louis, the homeless boy who sang by his apartment.   <br/>~<br/>Louis Tomlinson, in his opinion, was not poor.  <br/>His definition of poor was not only having a lack of money, but a lack of consideration for others, a lack of confidence. Because after all, if you had a lot of money but you hated everyone, how far would you get?  <br/>~~  <br/>Harry doesn't understand how Louis can be so happy and content in such unfortunate circumstances. He's convinced he's hiding something, and he's determined to find what that something is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all like my new story :) be sure to comment if you think I should keep going

Prologue

Harry Styles had, in his opinion, a pretty nice life.

He grew up around a lot of money and a lot of support from his family. And because of all of this, he got to fulfill his dream of attending university.

He started when he was 18, he wanted to be a lawyer. He rented a little apartment in the city a few blocks from his school, and, now that he was 20, he was sure he had his life all figured out.

That is, until he met Louis.

On Tuesdays and Wednesdays, he ventured from his little apartment and walked to his classes. He passed the rows of coffee shops and book stores, but most importantly he passed Louis.

Louis was a poor, poor man, about his age, who lived in front of a clothing shop next to his apartment building. He sat underneath the display window with his beat up, old guitar, singing songs that he’d never heard before. Louis probably had no idea who he was; he probably only knew him as the man who walked by every few days.

Louis fascinated him, and he found himself thinking about the homeless boy a lot. He thought about his dirty jean jacket, his scuffed up Chuck Taylor’s and his beanie that covered his ears, letting his fringe still fall delicately over his forehead. He seemed so happy, singing out with his beautiful voice underneath a shop window, with no bed to sleep in and no food. He lived for the pound that someone would toss into his guitar case, because that meant that he’d made someone’s day a little better.

But he knew all too well that there was more beneath that whole façade.

You see, he’d never really talked to Louis. Or even as much as made eye contact with him. He was a very shy person, even if it was just talking to some poor boy on the street.

But he had his heart set on figuring out the mysterious boy.

~~

Louis Tomlinson, in his opinion, was not poor.

His definition of poor was not only having a lack of money, but a lack of consideration for others, a lack of confidence. Because after all, if you had a lot of money but you hated everyone, how far would you get?

He was content. Sure, he could be better. He could be living in a huge house with a maid waiting on his every want and an endless amount of money in his bank account.

But he had none of that. He was 21 and living in front of a clothing store called “Stacy’s Stash”. Stacy, the woman who owned it, didn’t mind him. She even brought him a bagel now and then. All he owned was a guitar he’d gotten when he was 13, a backpack that had warmer clothes for winter, a notebook he wrote all of his songs down in, and a little bag he kept the money he got in.

He spent his days sitting on the cold sidewalk, strumming away and singing the lyrics that had come from the depths of his mind about his dark past. No one knew quite what he was singing, but everyone that walked by seemed to enjoy it. And sometimes, someone would even throw a little money into his guitar case.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he depended on other’s kindness to live. The money people so generously gave him, the bagels Stacy gave him. It was hard, but he managed. He’d also never admit that deep, deep down inside, he was so damn sad. He found no benefit from wallowing around in his misery, so he decided he’d try his hardest to maybe make the people around him not feel the horrible he felt.

The world hadn’t done him any favors. He didn’t like to think about how he’d ended up where he was. His parents split, his mother started drinking, and the next thing he and his sisters are being thrown into foster homes. But when he turned 18, he was forced to live on his own. He had some money after he left, but it all went down into his stupid decisions.

And that’s how he ended up on London Avenue.

On a particular chilly Tuesday in early November, he was singing as usual on the front step of Stacy’s Stash. He was singing his heart out to anyone that would listen. He wondered why people would pay so much for therapy when all they really needed was to sing and let it out.

He stopped singing for a moment to dig his notebook out of his backpack because an idea for a song had sprung into his mind. He started scribbling away on a fresh page when he saw something out of the corner of his eye flutter down into his guitar case. He furrowed his eyebrows when he saw that it was 2 £50 notes.

Louis looked up to see who had left it, and saw a very tall man staring shyly down at him. He had a big, warm smile that made him feel something he hadn’t felt in awhile. His green eyes bored down into his own blue ones. He saw he was wearing an expensive looking peacoat, a silver watch around his inked wrist, and a pair of boots that almost looked like a woman could wear them. He frowned.

“I wasn’t even playing anything.” Louis muttered, picking the notes back up to hand them back to the man. It had to be some kind of mistake, who would give him that much even if he had been playing?

The guy just smiled and shook his head. “My philosophy is kindness.” He simply said, and then promptly turned away to keep walking down the sidewalk towards the university.

He turned away once the boy turned the corner and then looked down at the bills. They were real. He grinned and shoved them in his bag. He could get real food, and maybe even a cup of coffee.

The whole rest of the day he sang louder, stronger. He wondered if the man knew just how happy he’d made him. “My philosophy is kindness.” The man’s words kept ringing through his head.

 

And he decided that maybe all of the hope he’d had for happiness wasn’t lost.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god I accidentally posted chapter 2 before posting chapter 1! I'm sorry, I think I've got it right now, enjoy :)

Harry didn’t talk to Louis again for about two weeks.

He didn’t know how to approach him, or how to even keep a conversation. His generous gift had only resulted in a thirty second conversation. Louis was just so beautiful in so many ways.

By now it was December, and the snow was falling in heavy flakes onto the already slick sidewalks of London. Harry was walking home from his classes one particular day, his hands covered with mittens and his curls hidden under a beanie his mother had knit him. He had a scarf wound around his neck to keep the harsh winds from biting at his face.

He hadn’t thought about Louis as much as he usually did, since he was busy with finals before Christmas and he had many other things on his mind.

But as he walked down the icy sidewalk, anxious to get into his cozy apartment with a warm cup of tea, he walked past Louis. Louis, who regardless of the horrible conditions, was still sitting on the steps in front of the clothing store, singing his heart out. He had his usual clothes on, but now he had a hat and fingerless gloves so he could still play his guitar.

He stopped, despite how cold he was, to listen with a few others who didn’t want to miss out on Louis’ beautiful voice. He couldn’t believe how he was singing and strumming away on his guitar so beautifully even though he was probably frozen.

When he finished his song, everyone clapped and a few dropped coins into his snow covered guitar case. He walked up to Louis, watching him as he dug in his backpack for something. He reached up to pull his scarf away from his mouth. “Hey there.” He said, and Louis’ eyes shot up from his backpack to look at him.

Harry gave him a friendly smile and sat on the snowy steps next to him. Louis said nothing, he just stared. He wondered if he recognized him. “Aren’t you cold?” He asked, and Louis’ eyes shifted to his lap.

“Of course I’m cold. It’s fucking freezing out.” Louis mumbled, and Harry sensed a bit of sassiness. He frowned.

“Do you want to come upstairs to my apartment for some tea?” Harry offered, smiling again at Louis. But Louis seemed to refuse to look at him, and he kept looking everywhere but at him.

“No thanks.” Louis murmured, and Harry frowned again. Why was he so against anyone trying to help him?

“Come on, you just said it’s freezing out here. Just come up for a bit, you can warm up.” He offered again, but Louis shook his head stubbornly.

“I don’t need your fucking charity.” Louis snapped, and Harry watched him gather the money from the bottom of his guitar case and put it into a pocket on his backpack. He put his guitar in its case and stood up.

Harry sat on the steps and watched as the little stubborn man hurried down the sidewalk, his backpack on his shoulder and his guitar in his hand through the blizzard.

He sighed and stood up, his fingers feeling like they would freeze off now. He couldn’t think of anywhere that Louis would go; he’d only ever seen him on the steps of “Stacy’s Stash”. He walked to his apartment building and climbed the endless flights of stairs until he finally reached his apartment. He picked up the newspaper laying in front of his door and then walked inside.

Harry sighed contently as he looked around his little apartment. It wasn’t a lot, but he didn’t want a lot. He slipped off his boots and all of his winter clothing and padded with his fuzzy socks into his kitchen. He decided on coffee over tea, and started a pot in his little machine.

He washed his mug from this morning and then looked around patiently as his coffee dripped into the pot. His apartment was a lot cheaper than what he could afford; when he decided to buy one he decided not to be greedy. He was aware of how lucky he was. He had a small living room with a worn out old sofa and a TV that got about four channels His kitchen appliances were ancient and sometimes his fridge stopped, but he loved it. He loved it, even if the shower leaked, and even if his bedroom was painted the ugliest shade of blue he’d ever seen. It was his.

His coffee machine beeped and he turned back around to pull the pot out and pour it all into his mug covered in little cats. He remembered how his mum had given it to him before he’d gone off to uni. Sometimes he really missed her.

Harry went to the fridge to get the milk, because he could absolutely not drink his coffee without milk. He discovered he was out, and he let out a loud groan. He couldn’t even drink it now.

He decided he’d need more in the morning if he wanted to have coffee then, or even his cereal. Very reluctantly, he went back to his door to put all of his layers back on to venture out into the tundra that was London.

He trudged through the snow for what seemed like forever until he reached the store. He quickly bought a carton of milk and then went back out into the snow.

But once again, his plans were changed by Louis.

~~

Louis was fucking cold.

He was sitting outside Stacy’s shop again. He’d stormed away after the strange tall man had talked to him again; planning on spending the night in the homeless shelter he usually slept in when it was cold. But when he arrived, it was too full and they wouldn’t let him in.

So he walked back through the freezing cold he’d been in all day. He hated winters, but more than the average guy because he had to be in it all the time.

He was just sitting there, shivering and breathing his hot breath onto his hands when creepy tall man sat next to him on the step again. His heart started beating faster; the guy made him so nervous. He was so handsome and his smile made him melt inside even if he was freezing on the outside.

He found himself staring, so he forced his eyes away from the man’s. “Why do you keep following me?” He muttered, pulling at a string on his mitten.

He could almost hear the man’s mood fall. “I just want to help you.” He heard the deep, rocky voice reply.

“I don’t want your help.” Louis snapped back, and he felt Harry scoot closer to him on the stairs. His stomach churned, and he swallowed nervously, glancing ever so slightly over at the beautiful man.

“You’ll freeze to death if you stay out here all night. Come on, you’re coming up.” The man said, standing up and pulling at Louis’ arm.

Louis internally groaned and finally just agreed. He gathered up his guitar and his backpack and followed him to the stairs of the apartment building next to Stacy’s store and went inside.

He sighed at the warmth attacking his body once he stepped inside. He was kind of happy he’d come now.

He followed him up the sketchy looking stairs, and he wondered if this guy wanted more than just to have a cup of tea with him.

“I don’t even know your name.” He said, and the man laughed. He blushed, his laugh was so deep and he felt like his own voice was way too high. He decided he wouldn’t talk anymore.

“My name’s Harry. I know your name, you’re like a local celebrity.” Harry laughed, and Louis’ blushed deeper. He silently thanked God that his cheeks were probably still rosy from the cold.

He followed Harry into his apartment, which smelled like coffee and vanilla. Harry set down the bag he’d been carrying, after he’d undressed from his layers of winter clothing, and pulled out a carton of milk.

“I made myself coffee and then realized I was out of milk. Good thing I went out to get more, or you probably would’ve frozen to death out there.” Harry said, and Louis frowned. He knew he would’ve been perfectly fine if Harry wouldn’t have brought him up there. He didn’t need to depend on other people.

“Do you want a cup?” Harry asked after Louis hadn’t said anything in reply. He had turned from the coffee maker, and his green eyes were now staring into his own. He blushed and nodded. He hated how flustered Harry made him. He hated it, but he loved it.

Harry sat next to him on the sofa after he was done making a second cup of coffee with sugar and cream, just like he’d asked for. He took the mug and wrapped his freezing fingers around it, sighing softly as he lifted it to his lips. He didn’t care that the coffee burned his throat, it was warm.

He looked around Harry’s apartment, and he liked how it wasn’t very much. The last time he met Harry, he had him pegged as a rich guy who just felt bad for the homeless boy on the street. But he actually had somewhat of a crappy flat.

Harry didn’t say anything as they drank their coffee, and he was glad he didn’t because he wouldn’t have known what to say back. He wasn’t a very social person when it came to talking. If someone asked him to sing in front of thousands, he’d say yes in a heartbeat. But if they asked him to talk, he could never do it.

By the time they were both holding empty ceramic mugs, the sun was long replaced by the moon in the window next to Harry’s television. Harry stood up and took their mugs to the sink. He heard his footsteps come back and the sofa sunk back down next to him.

“You can sleep here if you want. This couch is pretty comfy.” Harry said, and he glanced over to see Harry grinning at him. He let a little smile slip back and then looked back to his lap.

“Yeah, I think I will.” He said and Harry jumped up to get a pillow and a quilt from the closet next to what he assumed was his bedroom.

Harry set the things down next to him on the couch and he mumbled out a little thank you to him.

“Why are you being so nice to me? You don’t even know me.” Louis said, looking up at Harry.

Of course, Harry just smiled at him. “My philosophy is kindness.”

Louis frowned and looked down at his lap. That sounded like charity to him.

“Well, goodnight then Louis.” Harry said, and he smiled that ridiculously large smile at him again.

“Goodnight.” He said back quietly and watched Harry disappear into his bedroom. He lay down on the couch, putting the pillow beneath his head and throwing the quilt out over his legs. He let out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes. He hadn’t slept somewhere so comfortable in months.

He couldn’t really just fall asleep, because one question kept running through his mind. Why was Harry being so nice to someone he barely even knew? He didn’t understand Harry’s “My philosophy is kindness.” line. He couldn’t figure out an answer, but he was so incredibly grateful that he was so kind.

 

For once he felt like someone actually cared about him, even if it was an incredibly beautiful stranger who just wanted to give him charity. Someone cared, and he had, for one night, a warm place to sleep.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoyyyy thank you for all the positive feedback sorry it takes me so long to update but they'll get faster

Harry woke up in the morning to a loud crash.

He immediately jumped out of bed, thinking he was being robbed. He ran to the living room and saw Louis, staring wide eyed at a broken picture frame that held one of his school pictures on the ground. Louis heard him come in and averted his eyes from the ground.

“Harry, oh my god I’m so sorry.” He said worriedly, putting the frame carefully back up onto the coffee table. Harry just smiled.

“Don’t worry about it.” He responded, seeing Louis had his backpack on his back, and he was holding his guitar. “Are you leaving?” He asked sadly, his whole mood falling. Of course he knew that Louis had to leave, but he wanted to talk to him more. He had a longing in his stomach to know him better.

Louis just nodded and walked to the door to slip his shoes on. “Don’t you want breakfast?” Harry asked, running after Louis to the door, sliding a little to a halting stop when he hit Louis’ back. He blushed and stepped back. “Sorry.” He murmured.

He saw the slightest smile tug at Louis’ lips but then it disappeared. “I can’t stay. I have to go out and make money, remember? Not everyone has an endless bank account.” Louis muttered, and Harry frowned. He was about to crack.

“I’m living in a little apartment and I sleep on a twin bed, you think I’m really abusing my money?” Harry laughed a little, and Louis turned around to look at him. He didn’t say anything, he just stared.

“I’m going to give you money. Then you don’t have to go out and work and you can stay for breakfast!” He said and ran over to his coat to get his wallet. He pulled out a few random bills and shoved them into Louis’ pocket.

~~~

Louis was done with Harry and his stupid philosophy of kindness.

Louis scowled at him and shook his head. “I don’t need charity. I’m perfectly fine with earning my own money.” He said, just to clarify that he didn’t need Harry. He didn’t get close to people and depend on them, it always ended in disaster.

Despite his sour attitude, he set his bag and his guitar back down and slipped his shoes off to follow Harry back into the kitchen. He was starving, and if he ate here he wouldn’t have to trek down to the homeless shelter.

Harry made him scrambled eggs and bacon, and as he shoveled the eggs into his mouth, he really started to wonder about Harry. A young student decides that it’s okay to let some strange homeless man drink coffee with him and sleep on his couch and eat his food. Maybe Harry had some sort of crush on him, but he quickly discarded of that thought. Not in a million years.

He finished his food and stood up, going to put his shoes on again. He picked up his bag and his guitar and saw Harry walk around the corner, looking sad that he was leaving.

“But I gave you money. You don’t have to go out and play today.” Harry said sadly, and Louis groaned.

“Harry, it’s what I do. Don’t try to change me, it’ll just be easier, okay? It’d be better if you just went your own way and I went mine. We just don’t mix.” He said, and it was obvious Harry was heartbroken. And maybe he was a little too, because he was so damn stubborn he couldn’t even attempt to let someone into his life.

But he walked out the door anyways, and made his way down the hallway to the sketchy stairway. He walked back into the frigid cold and sat on his step, in the fresh snow of last night. He pulled out his guitar and his pick, and started to sing to the strangers on their way to school or work.

His day was relatively normal, and he got less money than he usually did. Then, he was actually relieved he had the money from Harry. As the sun set, he took the money out of his guitar case and shoved it into his bag.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled the bills out, which added up to about 100 pounds. He sighed and folded the bills neatly in half and stashed them back in his pocket. He had that fucking inkling in the back of his head about what to do with the money. But he couldn’t give into the urge anymore, not after so long.

His dark past got the best of him, and a few hours later, in the wee hours of the morning, he found himself stumbling down London Avenue, drunk off his ass. He’d blown all the money Harry’d given him on the hard liquor his body craved. It was just like when he’d left home, he spent all the money he actually needed on his damn addiction.

When Louis was a small boy, his father would get so drunk that anything his mother would say he would hit her. He’d sit in the corner of his sisters’ bedroom, holding them close as the screams from the kitchen filtered through into the room. And then his father left, and his mother took to drinking. He grew up with it, so of course, when times got bad for him, he turned to the bottle that took him far, far away.

He stumbled his way over to his spot under Stacy’s window, and found his guitar and his backpack. He put his backpack on his back and clutched his guitar as he walked over to the apartment building where Harry lived. He had to stop before he walked in, and crouched over, throwing up all the alcohol he’d paid so much for. It was too much. He went into the building and climbed the creaky stairs, tripping at least four times.

By the time he reached the top he was crying, because he was thinking way too much. Too much about how hopeless his life was, how unfair it was, and how he had virtually no one.

He found Harry’s door and knocked on it, wiping his eyes and trying to collect himself. But his mind was foggy, his judgment weakened, and he couldn’t really bring himself to care if Harry saw him crying.

After a few seconds, a sleepy looking Harry opened the door, and he looked suddenly awake when he saw him.

“Harry I’m so stupid. And I threw up.” He said loudly, sniffling as he stepped into Harry’s flat. Harry held his shoulder so he wouldn’t fall over as he set his bag and his guitar down not so smoothly.

“Love you need to quiet down. It’s really early and people are sleeping.” Harry said softly, and Louis just nodded.

“Harry I don’t have any more money. I went to the pub and I spent it all, I spent it all I’m so stupid.” He cried quietly, collapsing down onto the couch, his hands coming up to cover his face.

He felt Harry’s arm wrap around his shoulders, and Harry pulled him into his side. He shook his head and pulled back, lifting his head from his hands to look over at Harry. “Why, why Harry? Why are you so god damn nice to me?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “You don’t even know me and you give me so much money and I just blew it all on drinks and you’re still nice to me!” He exclaimed and looked back down at his lap.

“It just doesn’t make sense to me.” He said, folding his hands in his lap. Harry didn’t say anything, and the tears started to roll down his cheeks again.

“Harry why am I so fucked up?” He whimpered, glancing over at Harry. Harry was watching him, and he just shook his head.

“Love, you aren’t fucked up.” Harry said softly, and Louis groaned again.

“Stop calling me love! I don’t deserve you being nice to me, I’m such a dick to you.” He slurred, fumbling with his hands nervously. “I’m so stupid.” He said quietly, closing his eyes.

Harry’s arms wrapped around his arms firmly, and Louis let himself be pulled into Harry’s chest. He turned to push his face into Harry’s t-shirt, feeling Harry’s heart beat against his cheek. He sniffled and closed his eyes, the tears drying on his face.

Neither of them said anything for awhile, and Harry just held him. For a second he thought Harry’d fallen asleep on him, until he finally spoke up.

“I’m so nice to you because I know you need it Louis. I know the kind of person you are, because I’m just like you.” Harry said softly, and Louis just listened. “I know you need someone to care for you, and I need that someone too. I understand what it’s like. Maybe I’m not homeless and play the guitar for people, but I’m just as sad and lonely as you.”

Louis nodded softly, and he heard Harry sigh. “I know you’re broken Louis. I’ve got a few dents myself.” Harry whispered into Louis’ hair, and he suddenly wished he wasn’t so drunk so he could actually remember this stuff.

“I can fix you. We can fix each other, if you’d just give me the chance.” Harry whispered, and Louis nodded again.

 

Harry sighed again, and he seemed relieved that Louis didn’t just get up and walk away. He closed his eyes once again, and passed out in Harry’s arms.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello guys i'm writing again :) hope you guys like the chapter and comment your thoughts @

Louis woke up in the morning, and he was flooded with the guilt of the night before.

He’d managed to stay sober for so long, and all it took to ruin all of his hard work was one moment of weakness and a pocketful of stranger’s cash.

He sat up in a bed, and was utterly confused at where he was. He climbed out of the bed and his head started pounding and the whole room started spinning. He quickly sat back down so he wouldn’t get sick. But just then, Harry walked in. He raised an eyebrow. He’d ended up at Harry’s?  
Harry smiled at him sheepishly. He looked a mess, his curls all over and bags under his eyes. He must’ve slept on the couch, and he knew from experience that it wasn’t very comfortable. 

“Hey Louis.” Harry said softly and walked over. Louis wracked his brain to try to remember anything that had happened the night before but he only vaguely remembered stumbling up to Harry’s apartment and crying into his arms. He groaned and just hid in his hands. 

Harry tried to talk him into breakfast, but he just stood up, shaking his head. “No Harry, I can’t. I can’t.” He said and walked quickly from his room, finding his shoes and his coat. He got dressed and picked up his guitar in his backpack and just walked out before Harry could stop him.   
Louis hurried down the stairs and into the bitter cold that followed the storm from the day before. He sat on his stair and just stared out at the people bustling to get to work as he was drowned in self-loathing. 

He was falling for Harry. And he couldn’t accept it. He wasn’t gay, he didn’t even know why the thought crossed his mind. But as much as he tried to deny it, his heart longed for Harry. Harry, who treated him like a normal person, and cared for him like no one else ever had. 

But he didn’t need people to care for him, or so he’d convinced himself. He didn’t need other people to be happy or to have a good life. People had never made his life any better than he himself could make it up to this point, and he was sure that was why he couldn’t actually be falling in love with Harry. It was all just his thoughts getting jumbled from his hangover. 

That was all it was, or it was all he told himself.  
~~   
Harry was sad after Louis left. 

He was sure after what he’d told Louis the night before that he would at least stay a little longer. What he said about being able to care for each other and help each other out. He remembered so vividly how Louis melted in his arms after he said that, and he was certain Louis would want to stay after he said that.  
But man, was he wrong. Louis just stormed out and never once looked back.

He just wandered back to his room after he failed at trying to bring Louis back, and just sat on his bed that Louis had been in only moments earlier. He just didn’t understand. He was so nice to Louis and he tried so hard to win his trust. But he failed, just like he always had. 

He laid down and burrowed himself in his blankets as he got more and more immersed in his thoughts. He thought about how it seemed like Louis thought his life was perfect. It made him so upset, because his life was far from perfect. He had so much stress with going to school and all the pressure of his parents to be perfect and all of his friends that were fake and tried to be funny with him but in the end just ended up making him feel really bad about himself. 

He didn’t understand why when Louis was drunk, he came to Harry. It didn’t make any sense, because when he was sober he seemed to hate Harry but when he was drunk he had no problem just showing up and crying into his arms. He was just so confused.

Harry just curled up into a little ball and thought about how much his life really sucked. He tried to make friends with Louis because he just seemed so genuine and nice but it turned out he was everything but that. And he just couldn’t understand how he’d missed something so big. 

He lay there, thinking about everything and wishing his life had turned out better than it had.

Until, that is, he actually had to get up and go to one of his classes and deal with the people he didn’t want to see and daydream about the only person he wanted to see. 

He got dressed and bundled up in his scarf and his mittens and ventured out into the cold. He turned out of his apartment building and immediately heard Louis’ voice ringing through the freezing air. He tried his very best not to look at Louis, because he was terrified of a glare or a look he might get.

He just walked past, the sound of Louis’ beautiful voice breaking his heart with every note.

~~

Louis was singing one of his new songs when Harry walked by.

He thought that Harry would at least slow down a little and maybe make eye contact with him, but he didn’t even get that. Harry just walked by him, and he didn’t get why his heart dropped when he saw Harry pass by just like everyone else. 

Only then did he realize how much he’d fucked up. He could deny it however much he wanted that he didn’t need anyone to be happy, but his heart still longed to be held after a hard day and be told that everything will be okay. He was broken, and he needed someone. And he realized far too late realizing who that person was. 

So he just watched the only person that would ever care about him walk away because he’d let his pride get the best of him. 

He didn’t play a lot the rest of the day; at about noon he just packed his guitar away and tried to absorb what little warmth the winter sun tried to give. He wouldn’t be lucky enough to have a friendly stranger give him a place to sleep anymore. 

Louis perched there on his stupid staircase, and tried to think of any way he could approach Harry. He didn’t know why Harry would ever want to talk to him again after what he’d done, but he had to try. No one else would ever care for some random homeless man who was so full of himself he couldn’t even shake his act to realize that someone actually wanted him around.

His love for Harry grew stronger the more he thought about him. He found himself waiting anxiously to see Harry walk back from his class, and to see his beautiful face and maybe Harry would look at him this time. He daydreamed of Harry, every aspect and detail he could remember he just went over and over in his mind. He couldn’t even remember how he’d been so stupid as to run away from Harry.

~~ 

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about Louis throughout his entire lecture.

Louis walking out of his apartment so suddenly just kept running through his mind. After their whole conversation about being able to make each other feel better, and he just ran away. He thought he’d actually found someone who felt like him, but now he realized how stupid he was for thinking that.

He finally accepted that Louis didn’t want to make him feel better, even if it meant making himself feel better. Louis wasn’t what he’d first suspected at all, he was just so self-absorbed.

As much as it hurt him, he knew he had to stop caring so much about Louis. 

And slowly, but surely, he started to move on.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello :) I hope you guys are enjoying this story!! please comment and let me know if you do because it really means a lot to me and it motivates me to write faster :) but thank you for reading and hope you like this chapter

Harry wasn’t one to get over people easily.  
  
After Louis walked out, he couldn’t help but be hurt. He barely even knew Louis but he still felt like they were friends. It’s why Harry didn’t usually like to make friends, because the relationship always seemed to crash and burn in some way or another.  
  
He tried to forget, he really did, but he couldn’t stop wondering what he’d done wrong.  
  
He’d sit in his lectures, half listening to his professor drone on about nothing, and half thinking about what Louis was doing.  
  
On a particular Tuesday about a month after Louis stopped talking to him, he’d gone home like normal from his classes and plopped down on his worn out sofa.   
He groaned and ran his fingers through his messy hair, trying to figure out what to do. Any normal person would’ve been over something as simple as a friend by now.  
  
He dug his phone out of his pocket and hurriedly typed out a text to one of his old buddies, Zayn. He quickly replied that he’d be over, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Zayn would help him get over it.  
  
No less than a half an hour later Zayn was at his door, and Harry jumped up from his sofa. He opened the door and grinned at Zayn, greeting him with a friendly hug.  
  
“It’s been forever mate.” Zayn laughed and Harry walked with him over back to his couch. Harry just laughed along.  
  
“I know, with uni and all I’ve just been so busy.” He sighed and collapsed back onto the couch.  
  
“So, something must be up. You wouldn’t have text me otherwise.” Zayn teased and Harry frowned.  
  
“I just need to get my mind off things.. I thought you could help.” Harry said sheepishly and Zayn looked over at him with a devilish smirk on his lips. Harry paled.  
“What’s wrong?” Zayn asked, slinging his arm onto the back of the couch, shifting so he faced Harry.  
  
“I just met this guy.. He sings outside the building. We talked a few times but then he stopped talking to me. And I keep thinking about what I could’ve done differently to get him to stay and I can hardly focus on anything else..” He explained, folding his hands in his lap. “Please tell me there’s hope.” He smiled over at Zayn, and Zayn just laughed.  
  
“Yeah, sounds like you just need a good drink.. and maybe a lap dance.” Zayn smiled and pulled Harry up from the couch. “To the club!” He proclaimed, pulling Harry out of his apartment, barely giving Harry any time to even lock his door.  
  
~~~  
  
Louis was playing on his staircase like he always did, because he didn’t really know anything else.  
  
He’d been thinking a lot lately about his life, and how really disappointed he was with it. And his only chance to make it better he’d ran away from.  
  
He didn’t see Harry a lot lately. Only the few times Harry left his apartment to go to his classes. He savored those few moments he got to see Harry, since they were so scarce. His heart ached every time Harry strolled past him, as much as he tried to ignore it.  
  
The more Louis thought, the more he got over himself. He started to think about how sad and lonely he usually was, but for the few days that Harry graced him with his existence, he wasn’t so sad. And after he came to that, it wasn’t hard to realize that his ‘I’m responsible for my own happiness’ philosophy wasn’t exactly working.  
  
26 days after he’d left Harry’s apartment with a hangover, Harry looked at him. He walked out of the building after he’d already gone to his classes, which was new. And he was with a boy who had walked up a few minutes later. Harry glanced at him, and even if it was only for a split second, his heart still skipped. He tried to keep playing his guitar like it hadn’t happened, but his fingers failed him and he ended up messing up the chord.  
  
The boy with Harry looked over at him after he’d messed up the notes and smiled at him, walking over as he dug something out of his pocket. It was his wallet, and he pulled out a bill and dropped it in his guitar case with a wink. Louis scowled at the man and watched as he ran to catch up with Harry, and they just kept walking until Louis couldn’t see them anymore.  
  
He wondered what Harry was doing with him. Jealously came up in his empty stomach and it made him feel sick. He kept playing though, trying his best not to worry about it. He’d obviously messed up, and he couldn’t really fix it now. Especially if that boy was Harry’s boyfriend.  
  
Louis put his guitar away a little before it got dark, and Harry still hadn’t come back. He watched desperately at the horizon, just praying that he’d walk back over. He wanted to say something to Harry, say that he was sorry and ask if they could just be friends again.  
v He stared at the horribly boring brick building across the street from him, starting to get tired. He willed himself to stay awake, so that maybe he’d get a chance to talk to Harry when he came back. But the time got later, the night got darker, and his eyelids got heavier. Soon, he was fast asleep, his head drooped over onto his shoulder.  
  
But his sleep was short lived, because he was woken up by loud laughing. He opened his eyes quickly and looked up the empty street, seeing two people walking down towards him. They were laughing hysterically, and he could make out one hanging onto the other. It was obvious they were pretty drunk.  
  
As they got closer, he saw one was Harry. He saw his pale skin illuminated by the dull street lights and his red eyes, probably from all the drinking he’d been doing. So that’s where he was, some party or a club of some sort.  
  
And as they got closer, he noticed that the man Harry was with wasn’t the same one that he left with. He frowned and watched as Harry and the man just walked past him. Harry didn’t even glance at him this time, and he couldn’t help but feel sick all over again.  
  
Louis just had to watch as Harry dragged the strange man into his apartment building, still laughing at nothing. His heart ached and he curled up on his stoop, staring out at the brick building as the cold came over him. He sniffled and hugged himself, trying to get Harry’s laugh to stop ringing through his head.  
  
He couldn’t understand why it bothered him so much, especially after he’d walked out on Harry. He told himself that he couldn’t let his feelings for Harry get any stronger, but he’d failed.  
  
He couldn’t get over Harry, and he couldn’t bring himself to accept that.  
  
He drifted back off to sleep on the freezing concrete, a longing for the lumpy couch and the milky coffee of Harry’s apartment.  
  
~~  
  
Zayn took Harry to the club, and he left with more than just a stomach full of alcohol and some drug coursing through his veins.  
  
The night had been crazy, drinking and dancing with girls and guys and just anyone who was there. It wasn’t like Harry to do things like that, but with Zayn’s influence and his promise of a cleared mind, Harry was open to it.  
  
And after all the madness of the club, he dragged some bloke home that told Harry he’d treat him right. And of course Harry said yes.  
  
As they stumbled back to his apartment, he saw Louis on his step, awake even in the early hour that they were in. He didn’t look at him, but he noticed he was there. His mind briefly went back to the longing for Louis, but the thought was quickly pushed away when the guy, he didn’t even know his name, pulled on his arm to keep him going.  
  
He dragged the man up to his apartment, where the stranger pushed him into his bedroom. After meaningless sex, he just left and Harry was alone in his room as the drugs and alcohol’s affects wore off. That’s when the regret set in, and he wished he would’ve just stayed home and thought about everything because it was happening now anyways after the temporary distractions.  
  
He started to think, as he sat in the darkness of his room, that maybe those temporary distractions could potentially turn into permanent distractions. That thought was the motivation for texting Zayn again in the morning, asking for more of the powder he’d done the night before at the club.  
  
And that simple thought was the same reason for him sitting alone in his living room later that day, snorting the white powder that made all his troubles go away.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy :) sorry for the wait

Louis couldn’t accept it, but he was almost sure he was being a hypocrite. 

Harry had offered him everything he’d ever needed and wanted and he pushed him away, being the stubborn homeless man he was. And now, he was regretting even more every negative word he’d said to Harry when he was being so generous. 

Harry’d been out of his apartment less and less since the night that he came home with the strange man and Louis was getting really worried. Harry would come out only at night so he wasn’t going to school anymore and he’d come back all giggling and drunk with strange men. 

He was sitting on his step, too tired and not motivated at all to sing. He never really felt like singing anymore, because all he could focus and concentrate on was what Harry could possibly be doing up in his apartment all day. It had been a good three or four months since he’d seen Harry come outside for anything, and he really hoped one of the strangers hadn’t murdered Harry or anything. 

Louis had finally worked up the energy to sing later that afternoon. He spent most of his time when he was thinking about Harry spilling out every thought and every feeling into his worn out little notebook. He then put it to music and belted out his feelings about Harry to the world just so people would spare him some change. 

He hated this life. He hated having to sing for strangers who looked down on him and he hated having to go to the homeless shelter for dinner and he hated sleeping on Stacy’s staircase. The more he sat and thought about what he could’ve had with Harry the more he realized how stupid and stubborn he was for thinking that he could make his own happiness and make a life for himself out of absolutely nothing. He was alone; he’d always been alone, and he hated that he would probably never not be alone.

As he was singing, a squeaky door opened a few feet away from him and he immediately stopped playing. He glanced over and saw the ridiculously worn out boots that he’d stared at countless times as they stomped across the side walk next to him. He looked up and saw him; it was the curly hair and pale skin and the skinny jeans that he’d grown to love as he constantly went over them in his mind in the past few months.

His mouth stayed open, the last lyric echoing through the street because he couldn’t seem to remember the next line. He set his guitar down and jumped up, grabbing Harry’s arm to stop him from strutting down the street like he always did. 

“Harry!” Louis smiled, and Harry turned around to look at him. But when he saw Harry, he dropped his arm and his smile fell. His eyes were red and he had dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in quite some time. He looked dirty and his hair looked greasy, and he couldn’t understand. “What happened? Why haven’t I seen you in so long? I’ve been thinking a lot and I’m really sorry for walking out all those months ago.” He said quietly, hoping Harry would forgive him.   
Harry just shook his head at him and turned away. “I have to go.” He muttered and just left Louis standing there, his heart aching and his head spinning. Why was Harry like that?

He sat back on the step and just packed his guitar away for the night. He was so sad, and he wished he never would’ve stopped Harry.   
He was curling up on the step to go to sleep when he heard someone stumbling down the street towards him. He sat up from the shadow he slept in and watched the person make its way towards him. The closer he got he could tell it was Harry, and he looked drunk. 

“Harry?” He called, jumping up to grab Harry because he looked like he was going to fall over. “What are you doing?” He asked softly, but Harry just kept staring at the ground. He sighed and told Harry to stay put before running to get his backpack and his guitar. Louis took Harry’s arm gently and led him up to his apartment, having to dig Harry’s key out of his pocket just to open the door. 

He dropped his stuff by the door and Harry hurried over to the couch where he collapsed, sobbing into one of the throw pillows. Louis frowned and looked around as he made his way over to the sofa. Everything was dirty; there were food wrappers and dirty dishes all over, and there was a horrid smell drifting in the air. 

Louis walked to sit next to Harry on the couch and just put his hand on Harry’s back as he cried, because Harry still hadn’t told him why he was so upset. He waited until Harry had calmed down a little and until he wasn’t crying so hard before speaking again. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?” He asked quietly, and Harry lifted his face from the pillow to wipe at his swollen eyes. 

“I don’t have any money Louis. I’m broke, and they’re after me. My parents won’t give me anymore money. They’re going to get me!” Harry cried, breaking down again into his hands. Louis was still so damn confused, because Harry was being so vague.

“Harry you’re going to have to tell me a little more if I can help you.” Louis replied softly and moved his hand in little circles on Harry’s back. Harry nodded a little and sniffled. 

“Heroin. I was buying it from this guy.” Harry whispered, and Louis’ heart sank deeper into his stomach. “And he gave me some a few times when I didn’t have quite enough money to pay him. And now he wants all that money and I don’t have any Louis. I don’t have any more spending money from my parents and if I spend anymore they’ll find out about this all and they’ll kill me. He’s going to kill me. And I don’t even have any drugs anymore.” Harry groaned and Louis felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Louis felt like the whole world stopped around him. Harry was doing drugs. Harry was broke. Harry was pretty much just like him now, helpless. He couldn’t even do anything to help Harry either. 

“Harry..” Louis whispered and Harry screamed, standing up. He carded his fingers through his dirty hair. 

“What am I going to do?!” Harry yelled at the top of his lungs. “I need it Louis! I need more heroin!” He cried and Louis just stared. He didn’t know what to do; he didn’t know what to say. He just watched as Harry paced back and forth across the room until he finally came to sit next to Louis on the couch again. 

“I’m sorry Harry.” Louis said quietly and carefully wrapped his arms around Harry’s broad shoulders, praying he wouldn’t blow up again. “I’m sorry I can’t help you and make it better.” He whispered and his hands started shaking. What if the dealer came for the money and hurt Harry? What if he killed him? He had no idea what to do either. 

Then Harry broke down to him; he cried and cried and spilled his heart out about his horrible past few months. He told Louis how he first snorted heroin at the bar five months ago with Zayn and he’d just kept doing it for fun until he started feeling like he had to do it every day. He couldn’t come out of the house or go to school. He told Louis about how his parents only gave him so much money to spend on groceries and such and he would never be able to spend enough money to pay his dealer back without his parents knowing. Louis just nodded along until Harry grew quiet.

Harry didn’t say anything after that and Louis was glad because he wouldn’t have known what to say back anyways. He let Harry sniffle against his coat and he rubbed Harry’s back until he heard little snores coming from Harry, and Louis smiled a little. He hadn’t had a whole lot of reasons to smile lately and he didn’t really now but Harry sleeping against him and finally being calm was all a reason enough for him. 

Louis laid back on the worn out couch and with Harry still lying on his chest and he gently kissed Harry’s hair. He wanted to make things better for Harry and take all his worries away because maybe if he could Harry could forgive him for being so stubborn and rude. But he couldn’t make things better because he didn’t have any money. He hated himself because maybe if he would’ve agreed to let Harry help him more he wouldn’t have gotten into drugs. 

He convinced himself before he fell asleep that maybe he could make it up to Harry; maybe he could do something. He had hope for himself and Harry, even if they were both in the worst of situations. He was just relieved to be with Harry after all those horrible months apart, even if they weren’t really anything to begin with. He still couldn’t help but feel responsible for all of Harry’s new problems.

He would make things better; he would make it up to Harry. And with that, he drifted off into a sleep that would only briefly distract him from his horrible circumstances. But maybe, deep down, he was okay with that. Because at least he wasn’t alone.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize once again for being so slow with my updates.. i just never have motivation :( hopefully now that the story's starting to progress the chapters will come faster! please leave your opinions in the comments and enjoy :)

When Harry woke up the next morning, the withdrawal hit him like a brick wall.

He felt someone holding him, and after he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes he looked up to see it was Louis. He was snoring, his arm still wrapped around Harry’s shoulders. He tried to remember the night before, but all he really remembered was screaming and really needing to get high.

All of his problems started to come back to him the more he woke up. His dealer, his withdrawal, and how he was broke. He slowly and carefully slid from Louis’ arms and padded over to his kitchen. He started a pot of coffee. He couldn’t think straight; all he could think about was getting high. 

He wracked his brain, trying to remember if he had any left anywhere. He was desperate. He quietly snuck past Louis in the living room to his bathroom and gently closed the door. He swallowed nervously and reached behind the tank of his toilet, and a sigh of relief left his lips when he felt a little bag of powder.

~

When Louis awoke, he was on Harry’s couch again. But without Harry.

He was upset that Harry wasn’t in his arms anymore. He felt cold. He looked around, but Harry wasn’t anywhere around. He did see a pot of coffee in the process of being made in the machine though, so Harry couldn’t have been gone very long.

He stood up and stretched out, his entire body letting out one big crack from sleeping on the lumpy couch. Then he noticed that the bathroom door was closed. 

He felt relief flood through him and he walked over to knock on the door. 

“Harry? You in there?” He asked, and he definitely heard someone inside. He waited a few more seconds, but Harry didn’t speak. He opened the door of the   
bathroom and his heart sank. 

He saw Harry crouched over the bathroom counter, little lines of white powder in front of him. He ran over and pulled Harry up, his heart racing. “Harry what are you doing?!” He gasped, pulling Harry into the living room. He sat him down on the couch and ran back to the bathroom.

He stared at the powder and he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with it. He couldn’t believe Harry was still doing it. He attempted to get most of it back in the little bag and then flushed it down the toilet so Harry would never get at it. He then walked back into the living room where Harry was sitting on the couch, his eyes red. 

Louis sighed and sat next to Harry. He seemed so content, so happy for absolutely no reason. He’d done exactly what he shouldn’t have. “Harry you can’t do that anymore. You just can’t.” He said softly, but Harry just looked over at him with a lopsided grin. 

“Lou Lou, you worry too much. Don’t worry about me.” Harry smiled and laid back on the couch. Louis groaned and leaned back too. He couldn’t talk to Harry until he came down from his high. He was so upset, because it was really up to him to solve all of Harry’s problems. Harry couldn’t pay his dealer back. Harry couldn’t get over his heroin addiction by himself. Harry couldn’t get back on his feet at all if Louis didn’t help him. And now that Harry’d done this, he just made everything much harder. 

Once Harry was finally back to somewhat normal, he started to get upset. He heard little sniffles coming from him and Louis peeked over to see tears rolling down his cheeks. Louis sighed and wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, squeezing him. 

“I know love.” He said softly, and that’s when Harry turned into him and almost tackled him down onto the couch. His cries got a little louder after that and Louis’ heart started to hurt even more. He wanted to make things better; he wanted to help. But he was useless. 

“I’m screwed Louis. I’ve messed up everything.” Harry whispered against his neck, and he just shook his head. 

“No, no love you’re not screwed. We can fix this, okay? I’ll help you fix this.” He assured Harry, hugging him back tightly. 

He held Harry a bit longer and then he pulled back. “I can make things better, but you’re going to have to help me out a little, okay?” He asked Harry, and Harry nodded. 

“You have to show me where you have the stuff hidden, okay? If you hide in the bathroom again and do that we’ll have to start all over.” He said and Harry reluctantly nodded. 

“But you don’t understand Louis. My body craves it, I need it. I can’t just not have it.” Harry said, his voice just sounding so broken. Louis’ throat went dry. 

Louis thought for a moment, chewing on his lip. And then he got an idea. “I heard what works for a lot of addicts is to do something in place of when you’d usually snort it, y’know? I could sing to you whenever you want to do it. I could hold you, like this.” He said, and wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist to hold him against his chest again. 

Harry melted against him and he heard him sigh a little and Louis just smiled a tiny bit. He hugged Harry, running his fingers lightly over the bumps of Harry’s spine pushing out from under his shirt. “And if all that doesn’t work, I could do more.” He said, his voice even quieter than before. “Like maybe..” He whispered, and then leaned down to kiss Harry’s cheek. He could feel Harry stiffen up a little, but he made no effort to pull away. 

Louis smirked a little and kept trailing his fingers over Harry’s back. “Or maybe a little more, if you’d like.” Louis whispered and kissed the corner of Harry’s mouth, just shy of his lips. He pulled back and offered Harry a little smile. 

“All you’d have to do is just say the word, and I’d do anything to make you feel better.” Louis whispered, his breath tickling Harry’s ear. 

Harry nodded and Louis had to let his smile go. “But you have to bring me all of your stashes, okay love?” He said gently, squeezing Harry’s waist. He pulled Harry up and he led them throughout his apartment, pulling bags of the white powder from the most unexpected places. Taped to the back of a book on his bookshelf, under the frame of the window. 

Once Louis made sure Harry had shown him where they all were, he let Harry drop them into the toilet and then he flushed them. Harry quickly turned to Louis again and hugged him with one of his tackling bear hugs. Louis smiled sadly and curled his arms around Harry. “This better work.” He heard Harry mumble against the shoulder of his t-shirt.

Louis then decided it was time to take Harry’s mind off of it. They sat on Harry’s couch, and Harry was curled up into his side, reminding him a lot of a cat they’d had when he was still at home. He loved how Harry wanted to be around him again, and he didn’t have to sit on the stairs anymore, desperately waiting to see Harry walk outside. 

They laid there, curled up on the lumpy couch watching the news, because Harry only had about five channels. Harry fell asleep, and Louis just sat next to him, listening to his delicate little snores. He couldn’t help but smile, because he was one step closer to bringing happiness back to him. 

He still had the problem of Harry’s debt with his dealer, and he had yet to figure out what to do. But for now, all he really cared about was that Harry was slowly starting to get on the path to being better.

Louis stared and listened to the boring news lady for what seemed like hours before Harry started to wake up next to him. 

“Louis. I need to get high.” Harry whispered.

~ 

Harry woke up feeling like hell.

He needed to get high, he needed it or he felt like he would die. 

“Louis please. You need to let me. I think Zayn might have some left.” He said, desperately searching around for his phone. But then he felt two strong hands wrap around his wrists. 

“Harry. No.” He heard Louis say sternly, and he whined a little before looking up at Louis.

“Don’t you remember what I said?” Louis asks, and then Harry did remember. But he wanted heroin.

But then the strong hands were gone and he saw Louis hurrying over towards the door, where his guitar was. He watched as Louis brought his guitar over to the couch. He sat down and started strumming it. Harry just sniffled and watched Louis' little fingers plucking so carefully at each string. 

Of course Louis playing his guitar for him didn’t make the want to get high go away. It never would. But just that Louis was trying so hard and doing so much just to make sure he was okay made the want go away just the slightest bit. And that slightest bit was a reason to try; and Louis was a reason to get better. Louis cared. 

He remembered, as Louis strummed and softly sang a vaguely familiar song, that when he first met Louis he really just planned on making him better. He was sure Louis was broken, and that Louis needed help. But now it was the opposite, Harry’s life was shattered into a million little pieces and Louis was determined to put them back together. 

And just knowing that one person cared enough about him to do something like that was enough of a reason to go on.


	8. Help?

Sorry for scaring you, this is no update. High school's hit me hard and I completely forgot about this story and everything to do with it, and sadly I don't think I'll be able to continue it and get into it again after being away from it for this long. 

I've decided to put it on hold, because I'd really love to start writing a new story. I really want to write something you guys want to read, so the whole purpose of this update is to get your input on what I should write next. Judging by my past works (holocaust fic), I'm really open to anything.

SO PLEASE LEAVE ANY AND ALL OF YOUR IDEAS IN THE COMMENTS OR IN MY INBOX!! I will seriously consider it and you might get your idea written by me :) I just really need a story to get into again so I can update more frequently and make you guys happy :)

Thank you guys so much, I try to reply to messages and comments as much as I can because I just appreciate every single one of you, even my ghost readers :) I love you all


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